


Pointless Reactions

by FoxesFantasys



Series: Spirit Guide [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Mentions of Blood, Protagonist Has Bad Memory, author can’t tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxesFantasys/pseuds/FoxesFantasys
Series: Spirit Guide [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120577





	Pointless Reactions

It was dark as usual. Like a thick blanket of black smoke that refused to clear. The room was small and felt suffocating, it smelled like dried blood and salt, all familiar scents to his sensitive nose. In the furthest corner of the room he sat scrunched up against the wall, atop an old wet mattress with a strong musty smell that only added to the disgusting stench of the atmosphere. Distantly he could recognise thoughts, jumbled and foggy, but thoughts nonetheless. What their topic was or how long he’d been thinking was an unknown to him, even things he should have control over felt out of his grasp.

His bright innocent eyes had dulled so long ago it was hard to remember, it was hard to remember anything really —except this place which he had yet to forget for even a moment.

He sniffled softy by instinct, but instantly winced with a slight gag at the overpoweringly strong stench that came with it and burned his nose like fire, deciding to close his eyes instead in the future. Although it would make little difference since he cloud barely see more with his eyes open, but at least if he closed them there was a chance of finding some semblance of peace in his dreams.

A soft hum leaves his hoarse throat and echos all around the room. Yes, sleep sounded good. But nothing was ever without a pinch of salt as the threat of night terrors and nightmares was pushed to the back of his mind.

What happens, happens, and you can’t control your fate. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool in his eyes. But his opinion didn’t matter here, nor anywhere else, there’s no point in speaking up if nobody listens.

And he’d tried! He’d tried so hard to _make_ them listen! To make them hear him, understand his situation, to _help_ him. But no matter how hard he tried nobody took him seriously, he was too different from all of them, he lived in a different world to all of those idiots.

While they all wandered aimlessly in a world governed by monstrous demons —controlling their every move, speaking their every word,— he was safely tucked away in a free world, where the demons couldn’t find him and control him like they did all the others. They all thought they were the free ones when in reality it was him.

Wasn’t it...?

The definition of freedom is tricky, there was too many meanings for him to remember, and his head was beginning to throb painfully like a brick being pounded down onto his skull. He was focusing too much and it hurt.

In truth he knew that in most meanings of the word —although he couldn’t remember them— he was not free, he was no idiot despite all evidence, and he knew that his predicament was anything but normal. Though a small part of him still wants to believe it is, that everything is normal and this is a show of affection, not of hatred and disgust, of absolute embarrassment at his very existence.

It’d be a lie if he said he wasn’t embarrassed of himself too, but alas there’s no point in pitying himself. It won’t help him escape, so it’s a pointless reaction, something he knows he must get rid of to survive.

And yet for some reason, he couldn’t help clinging onto those pointless reactions of his.


End file.
